


Underbrand

by WoolfCub



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Atheism, Dominance, F/F, Fighting Kink, Fighting to Top, Strong Lesbian Aunt Energy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:10:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoolfCub/pseuds/WoolfCub
Summary: In spite of - or because of - their differences, Shamir and Catherine make a fearsome team. But when Shamir goes a bit too far with her teasing, she finds herself unprepared for Catherine's very enjoyable revenge.





	Underbrand

Thunderbrand gouged the air, its jagged prongs tearing red lightning into the air. Catherine turned just enough to lead the heavy blade, and its momentum bore it on through the crowd of straw men. Each one hissed as Thunderbrand passed through, and wisps of smoke and charred grass filled the air. With a grunt, she pressed forward and made one final thrust into the rag-filled dummy of a demonic beast. The oil cloth seemed to scream as flames rushed around the beast, crowning it. The cloth gave way, and Catherine had to leap back avoid the avalanche of burning shreds.

“Very impressive.” Pewter buckles glinted in the darkness beyond the pillars of the Knight’s Hall. “Those skills will come in very handy if we’re ever attacked by an army that just stands still.”

“Shamir. I thought you were watching.”

She stepped out of the shadows, grinning.

“No you didn’t. You were oblivious to me. I...”

“You were controlling your breathing, yes, I know. Two short breaths, one long one. Once you know what to listen for, it’s as easy to hear as Alois’ laughing.” Catherine planted the tip of Thunderbrand in the sawdust and leaned on it, oblivious to the crackle of smouldering ash. “Anyway, if you’re the smart mercenary, how would _you_ practice your sword arts? Ideally without anyone else getting killed.”

“We archers have many ways to practice against a moving target. Barrels on a river, kites in the breeze. Some castles even have clockwork mechanisms where mechanical solders run about on rails. And of course then there’s hunting.”

“You can’t hunt with a sword.”

“Why not?” Shamir glanced the weapons on the wall. It was years since she’d used any blade larger than her trusty throwing daggers. “A weapon you can’t hunt with won’t help you survive very long in the wild.”

“Then it’s a good thing we don’t live in the wild. Fódlan is a land of towns and farms, not some hardscrabble backwater like Brigid or Dagda. No offence.”

“None taken. I consider it an honour to be from somewhere as tough as Dagda. Most of these lords and ladies don’t know what it means to truly go hungry. To have to take the archbishop’s shilling and fight wars just to afford apples and mutton for your pot.”

“You shouldn’t fight for Lady Rhea’s money. You should fight for Lady Rhea.”

Shamir pinched a thin smile. “Faith doesn’t fill an empty stomach, Catherine.”

Air sizzled as Catherine slid Thunderbrand back into its sheath. “What is your problem with the Church? They took us both in when everyone else had abandoned us, when the Empire wanted us dead. Why can’t you just nod along with the odd hymn?”

“I have nothing but respect for Rhea. I just don’t think I need to believe these fairy tales about saints and goddesses to work for her.”

Immediately Catherine glanced around to make sure they were alone in the Knight’s Hall. “You can’t say these things. Not here. Do you really want to risk everything you’ve worked for?”

“Pfft. Rhea wouldn’t throw me out. She needs me.”

“Lady Rhea doesn’t _need_ anyone. We need her.”

“Ooh, someone loves Rhea.”

“Really, Shamir? Are you going to be so childish?”

With a grin, Shamir shouldered her quiver and began towards the door.

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

*

The knights’ cottages were spacious compared to the cramped wooden dorms the students had to put up with, but this just made Catherine feel all the lonelier as she ate her fish and turnip stew in the corner. The flickering candlelight didn’t even reach the other corner of the room, and only the dull glow of Thunderbrand stopped the house becoming a black void.

Gravel outside the shuttered window crunched, and Catherine paused her chewing. Footsteps were approaching. Catherine swallowed and stood quietly. She was out of her armour, and it would take too long to pull on. Quickly, she grabbed a leather doublet and pulled it over her chest before slipping her gauntlets on. She picked Thunderbrand from the wall and crept over to the door.

Someone was standing on her doorstep. Catherine could see their shadow through the cracks in the door panels. There was a faint light – a soft greenish glow.

Catherine gasped and threw open the door. “Lady Rhea, I...”

“Oh Catherine, my favourite knight.” A hastily woven enchanted daisy chain and a grass wig decorated the head before her.

“Shamir. Take that… that blasphemy off your fucking head right now.”

The fake archbishop turned around, her rug cloak flapping in the night’s breeze. “Why Catherine, don’t you recognise your own mistr-”

With a sudden yell, Catherine grabbed Shamir by the shoulder and pulled her into the house. “How dare you!” Catherine swung an open palm at Shamir, but her reflexes were too fast and and she caught the slap. Even with her leather archer’s brace, the blow still stung her wrist. With her other hand, Shamir tugged the wig off.

“I thought you’d find it funny. I certainly did.”

“I won’t put up with this any more.” Catherine shifted her bodyweight just a little, focusing it onto her partner’s wrist, and Shamir found herself slowly sinking to the ground. “Since you won’t worship Lady Rhea of your own will, I’m going to make you show the respect she deserves.” There was a soft clink as Shamir’s knee guards touched the ground. “Start praying.”

“Praying?” Shamir laughed. “Praying for what?”

“Praying that I don’t cut you down for disrespecting Lady Rhea.”

Shamir grimaced and closed her eyes. “Dear Lady Rhea. Please forgive me for doing this.”

Suddenly, she yanked her arm down and threw herself back. Now Catherine was the one off balance. She fell forward, and Shamir rolled them both so Catherine landed on her back. The gauntlets hit the stone floor with an almighty clang. “Come on, Thunderstrike Cassandra, is that really the best you’ve got?”

Shamir leaned back to jump to her feet, but Catherine’s hand grabbed at her clothes before she could escape. She yanked, and Shamir’s bodice tore open along its lacing. “I’ll give you my best if you want. Your funeral.” Her fingers slipped under Shamir’s choker and yanked her forwards. Shamir yelped and reached round desperately to unclasp her necklace. Catherine took the opportunity to roll them once more, so Shamir lay pinned under her weight. With one hand on each wrist, Catherine let her partner struggle until the fight went out of her and her muscles slackened. “Give up yet?”

“Fine, I sur… sur… Ahem. I yield.” She shook her sweat-drenched hair out of her eyes and stared forlornly up at her partner. “Very well. You can top this time.”

“I _can_ top?” Catherine chuckled. She reached down and snapped open the clasp of Shamir’s belt. “Oh Shamir, sweetie, I don’t need your permission. I _will_ top.”


End file.
